Green Apples
by Closet Adventuralist
Summary: An interrogator has a close call with the Clown Prince of Crime. One-shot Kind of J/oc, but really, really not.


**This is just a little diddy I cooked up to show my readers that I have, in fact, been writing. Heart Song is, indeed, complete and I've got some plot bunnies running 'round, waiting to be put to paper... screen, whatever. Green Apples is a one-shot, but, perhaps one day, I'll turn it into something more. **

**Rated for Language, but y'all should already know that. ;)**

**Closet Adventuralist**

Commissioner Gordon walked quickly through the swinging doors of the Gotham Police Department with a determined stride, confident, and proud of his catch. The plan (if there had even been a plan) had worked; Gotham's most maniacal criminal was behind bars—twiddling his thumbs, no less. And yet, he couldn't help but to feel a sense of unease. Catching the Joker hadn't been easy by any means, and there had been casualties, but there was something definitely off with the whole situation. He'd come down from his hanging perch without a fight, sat in his cell quietly, and made no move to escape. It made no sense whatsoever, and part of it had him feeling a sense of deja vu. On the other hand, Gordon had already learned that nothing truly made sense when it came to the Joker.

As he crossed the room towards the holding cells, he noticed a familiar face sitting idly in one of the chairs lining the walls opposite the cages. She sat slumped against the back of the chair, her head resting in her upturned palm. Her crossed legs bounced slowly up and down, counting the beat to an unheard tune. As if he didn't have enough problems hanging on his shoulders. Gordon sighed raggedly and sat down next to the girl. "Well, I know you aren't going to want to hear this, but I can't keep you here." She emitted a snort and shifted in her seat to look at him head-on.

"Gordon, I know you aren't going to want to hear this, but this time I'm not here for you." She patted his arm and smiled gently, as if consoling a small child. "Besides, I've troubled you enough for one lifetime. I've got to get out on my own, handle things myself for once." Gordon shook his head and grasped her hand, holding it between his own.

"Now, Allyson, you know that I'm here for you—whatever you need. I don't like to see you get into all this trouble, especially with those thugs." Allyson's face contorted into something akin to frustration and concern. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the various officers milling about. Now was not the time to discuss her undercover activities.

She returned her gaze to Gordon, and said in a voice she hoped was firm, "As long as I have you, as long as you're looking out for me, I'll be just fine. I trust you implicitly with my protection. You know that. And I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring these assholes to justice, even if it means risking a little bodily harm." She took another long look around her, "I don't trust these people. But you, you I do trust. I know you wont let me down." One of the officers that had brought her to the station appeared at her side, gesturing for her to follow. "I trust you, now you should trust me," she gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze before getting up to follow the man in blue.

Her steps faltered as she took in the object of her mission. He was young, too young to have caused as much damage to the city as he had, and he looked almost… bored. Allyson recognized the look, having seen it over and over in the mirror. But she also knew that bad things came from boredom, in his case, mass chaos. His makeup was smeared, his suit wrinkled, and his hair in disarray. And yet he sat utterly poised in his cell, simply waiting. She didn't know why, but everything about this man frightened her.

Allyson focused on keeping the indifference plastered to her face as she passed the cell; there was no need to give away the secret too soon. He'd know a hell of a lot more soon enough and she wanted him to be just as surprised by her as she was by him. Tipping him off too soon would give him too much time to come up with a plan, something she had learned the hard way, the circular scar still sitting heavily in her side.

From the mirror, you could see all of the interrogation room, what little there was of it. White bricks lined the walls, a simple table, pair of chairs, and lamp were the only furniture. Allyson pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and waited. They'd be bringing him in soon, the man who held the city hostage. But what did the GCPD want her to do with him? It was a dangerous move, at best. She was already in deep with the mob, infiltrating their ranks as she'd been assigned. Why risk blowing her cover for this one criminal?

"Because he's either mauled or killed just about every interrogator we've spit at him, scared off every psychiatrist, and pushed the tempers of every officer in the building." Allyson mentally cursed, she'd been speaking her thoughts aloud—a nasty habit that, of late, hadn't been so prevalent. Working with known criminals had a way of keeping you on your toes. She was slacking, hadn't even noticed Gordon following her trek to the observation room.

Allyson turned to face her mentor, "Really, he can't be that bad. I mean, he's psychotic, for sure, but its not like he's got the wherewithal to take down the entire station." She smiled, amused that this one criminal could create such havoc amongst her peers.

Commissioner Gordon did not return her smile. In fact, his frown deepened, the lines around his face becoming ever more apparent. "You'd be surprised," he drawled. Allyson's smile faded and was replaced with a frown similar to that of Gordon's. She turned to gaze through the mirror. Any moment now.

The doors of the interrogation room swung open, and the Joker was hauled inside, handcuffed. Three armed officers trained their guns on him as he sat down, making himself comfortable. "Really, gentle_men_, if I wanted to escape, don't you think I would have done it by now. I've had," his tongue flicked out to lick at the red paint smeared over his lips, "So many _delicious_ opportunities." Allyson shivered at the timbre of his voice, a menacing tone that prompted visions of the previous chaos besieging Gotham's streets. His eyes darted here and there, taking every nook and cranny of the room, his feet tapping gently against the cement of the floor. The Joker seemed to be filled with a nervous energy, a tightly coiled knot of power, just waiting to burst open. The officers continued to point their guns at him, even after the Joker held up his hands, as if to show that he had nothing up his sleeve. They obviously weren't taking any chances.

"What do you want from him…from me?" She asked softly, watching the Joker shift in his seat. "What can I do that hasn't already been done?"

"I want you to do what you've always done. Infiltrate him. I want you to explore what's in that mind of his. Nobody reads people that way you do, and so far we've been completely unable to grasp his thinking." Gordon leaned on the sill against the glass. "We need to understand him, to be able to predict his moves." He turned a sorrowful gaze on Allyson, "He'll get out, and it's only a matter of time. And when that happens, I want Gotham to be prepared."

Allyson felt her heart constrict, it had been nearly five years since her last endeavor to navigate the mind of a criminal. Five years since he'd gotten loose and taken her hostage. The bullet wound on her side ached in response to her memories, a constant reminder, a constant warning. Gordon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I know you can do this. It has to be done, and you are the most qualified. He's not Jim Cardone. He's a whole new animal, one that doesn't think in terms of hostages and vengeance. The Joker is more of a big picture kind of guy." Allyson chuckled, feeling some of the tension melt away. They didn't talk about it, but Gordon and Allyson both felt the unspoken guilt of their pasts. She shifted away from her mentor and leaned against the glass.

"I thought you didn't know anything about him. Looks like you really don't need me anyway." She turned and pretended to be on her way out, stopping only when Gordon placed his hand on the door blocking her escape. "Geez, I'm just messing with you. No need to get your panties in a bunch." Her smile, this time, was as genuine as she could make it under the circumstances. "Well, lets get this party started."

The room was cold, must colder than the hallway. The chill was so forceful that Allyson had to catch her breath as she opened and closed the door. And then another chill ran up her spine—it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Aha ha ha," his laugh was strained, tinged with the ever-present tang of madness that exemplified how certifiable he really was. "They finally catch me, and what do they do? They send me a little mouse to play with!" He clapped his hands as best he could with the restraints, all the while laughing so hard he literally bounced in his seat. Allyson steeled herself against the onslaught of his psychosis, squaring her shoulders in defiance.

"Mister…uh, Joker, is it?" He hadn't halted his shaking giggles, and was balanced precariously on his chair. For a moment, Allyson figured he'd just haul off and fling himself to the ground out of sheer wild abandon. She cleared her throat and tried again, "I'm here to speak with you on behalf of the Gotham City Police Department. We'd like some information from you, if you would be so kind." She kept her voice clipped, cold as ice, and hoped to God he would just quit _laughing_. He calmed a bit, but sporadic giggles still escaped his heaving chest, causing his body to twitch in his seat.

Allyson rolled her eyes and sat in the chair opposite the painted man, warily arranging herself for maximum escape capacity. She stared him down; willing herself not to flinch at she took in the feral appearance, the curling scars at the corners of his mouth. Oh yes, he was frightening, but there was something else that led her to believe that he was much more than just his nightmarish looks—his eyes seemed to shine back at her from the blacked out abyss of his face, mocking her, taunting her, intriguing her. "So," she said, placing her folded hands upon the table. The cold steel seeped through her skin, causing an involuntary shudder to rack her body. "do you have a name?" His smile, a true smile, appeared, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

"Haven't you heard?" The Joker's cuffed hands rose, "I'm the Joker, mass-murdering mastermind of Gotham!" He pantomimed the headline across the empty air, his fingers flexing with each word. A high-pitched giggle had Allyson cringing. "Or perhaps you've been living under a rock for the past few weeks." He regarded her, his face turned so that he was giving her a sidelong, squinting stare. "You look like the worrying type. Tell me, did you call everyone you knew when the hospital went kaboom, or did you run like the scurrying little mouse that you are?" His voice lowered into a soft baritone, purring out into the vast emptiness that separated them. "Did I kill anyone you know? Did I… maim them irrevocably?" Allyson tensed, unwilling to let him win, but unable to truly understand what he was trying to accomplish. Her family, what little she knew of them, was far away, safe from the scum of Gotham's underworld. He was hoping she'd get angry, get disgusted, get… something. She checked herself mentally, recalling the many nights of studying in her bedroom after class, her nose buried in her notes. Emotion was the worst thing to give into when you were dealing with a criminal.

Feeling reassured, Allyson shook her head, trying to plant her feet in stoic indifference. "Thankfully, my family was on vacation. Besides, what did you do, really? Plant a few bombs, blow up an—and I emphasize this point—_empty_ hospital, kill a few cops?" She leaned back, relaxing into an almost lethargic position in her chair, "If you ask me, it sounds a lot like child's play to me." That did it, she could see the change in his face. She went straight for his pride and struck gold. That taunting smile turned suddenly very dangerous, cold. He drew himself up and placed his bound hands on the table, leaning as close to her as he could with the table between them.

"Child's play? My dear, did you see the chaos I caused with just two minutes of a phone call? The whole damn city erupted, _KAPUSSH!,_ in seconds." He cocked his head to the side, watching her reaction (she made sure to look as bored as possible), "Perhaps…" his tongue flicked out to touch his top lip, "Perhaps I should show you what…exactly… grown up play involves. Maybe then you'll look past the surface and really get the, uh, _message_." Allyson swallowed, suddenly feeling every bit the prey being stalked by a predator. Try as she might, she couldn't pull her eyes from his dark, leering gaze. It pulled her in, sucked her down into the very depths of his maddening soul, poked her, prodded her, teased her.

Thankfully, the door swung open, slamming loudly against the brick. Allyson let out a small breath of relief, watching as the Joker leaned back to sit fully in his seat, a small smirk playing softly on his face. He'd definitely won this battle, but damned if she was going to let it go. He was going down, she'd see to that. Officer No-name entered without a word, approaching the table with a certain swagger in his step, a confidence she hadn't seen in a while—not since the Joker killings had began. "What is it? We're kind of in the middle of something here," she didn't appreciate her time being interrupted. She shot a scornful look through the mirror situated on the far wall, hoping Gordon was there to see it.

The officer threw a bundle on the table in front of her and strutted out of the room without even acknowledging her question. The Joker's giggle sent her gaze quickly back to his face, "I bet they don't even let you play in their reindeer games, either." His face suggested mockery, but his tone, the deep timbre of his voice, hinted at malice. Allyson shot him her best glare, but he seemed unfazed, giggling mercilessly. What the fuck? She opened the bundle gingerly, unfolding the swaths of white cloth to reveal… makeup remover? What the _fuck_? She glanced quickly up at the Joker and then stood up, "Excuse me for a moment." Her footsteps were loud against the eerie silence of the room, stomping out her frustration.

She made her way back to the observation room and finally voiced her thoughts on her new 'present', "What the hell is this all about?" Allyson shook the bottle at Gordon, the white towel flapping in agitation.

"We've got to break him down, make him more vulnerable. That makeup is the mask he uses to scare people." Gordon placed his hands on his hips and stared through the glass, "Without it, he's just human, like everyone else." Allyson sighed, cocking her hip to the side and regarding her mentor. He looked tired, run ragged by the overflowing abundance of streetwalking scum that littered the city. She could do him this one favor.

"Alright, alright," she said, raising her hands in surrender, "but it doesn't mean I like it." She pointed her finger at Gordon, jabbing the air for emphasis, "You so owe me for this."

As she made her way back to the interrogation room, she chanted "I think I can, I think I can," hoping to ease the tension building quickly throughout every muscle. Her shoulders ached, and her steps were strange, erratic movements that were uncharacteristic of her usual gait. Upon entering the room, however, her mantra became "Oh, God, I really don't think I can."

The Joker sat still, hands folded neatly in his lap, staring at her as she sat down. She unfolded her parcel and sat the bottle of makeup remover upright, with the label facing him. The Joker eyed the bottle warily. "That's a bad joke, little mouse," he said, a low growl forming in the back of his throat.

"I'm afraid it's not a joke. The commissioner feels it would be best if we removed your makeup. We hope to be able to get a better mug shot, maybe someone will recognize you." Her lie felt vile between her lips, but she was used to it, having lied every day for the last three and a half years. "You can do it, or I can do it for you. Either way, it's coming off." Alyson hoped her voice sounded as firm to him as it did to her, hoped he would just go along with the plan. She didn't think she had the ability to sit that close to him and… touch him. Damn it, she was supposed to be in control of this situation, but he fucking scared her! Everything about him unnerved her, from his imposing aura to the way his mouth formed over the syllables of his poisonous words.

Gathering up her courage, she stood and paced around the table, "Fine, if that's the way you want it." She grabbed the bottle of makeup remover and snatched up the towel, pouring a small amount and rubbing the ends together to distribute it evenly. All the while, the Joker glared at her, a silent fury sparking deep in his… oh, his eyes weren't the black, ominous holes of insanity she had initially thought. Allyson paused, looking at one eye and then the other. The black of his makeup seemed to blot out even the whites of his eyes from a distance of a mere two feet, but up close… they were a deep, chocolate brown.

Shaking herself into submission, Allyson placed the towel at his temple, drawing small circles up and over his skin. Patches of warm, even skin emerged slowly, peeking through the mottled white. She stood mere inches from his body. If he was so inclined, he could rise up and throttle her, use her as a human shield, escape. Half of her wondered if she was doing this on purpose, trying to see how far he'd take it. The other half was shocked at how utterly human the skin beneath all the greasepaint felt.

Gingerly, she inched forward, stepping so that her jeans brushed the fabric of his shirt. He still hadn't moved, she didn't think he'd even let out the breath he seemed to be holding. Intuitively, she could feel his tension. Gordon was right, taking off the makeup was making him feel vulnerable. Allyson worried what would happen if he began to feel both vulnerable _and_ threatened. Visions of her blood seeping over the edges of the table swam before her eyes and desperately tried to think of something to say. With her free hand, she tilted his head back, exposing the pale column of his throat—best to get that part over with quickly. "So… any plans for when you get out of here?" She met his eyes, noticed the small crease between his brows. Allyson smiled, "You are planning to get out, aren't you?" More makeup remover was applied to the cloth and she started on his cheekbones. "You seriously don't intend to stay here all your life. Surely, a guy like you has a master plan for getting locked up." her tone took on a teasing note, a smile easing its way onto her face.

The Joker merely continued to stare, his lips pursed in thought. Allyson glanced downwards once, twice. He was pouting! The Joker, mass-murdering fiend of the underworld, was pouting like a petulant child! If it wasn't so funny, she might be scared. As it was, she only let a small chuckle escape her throat, for fear that he'd start in on it, and she'd have to hold him down just to finish the job. His voice, when it came, startled her, "Do I really look like a guy with a plan?" he said as she worked on removing the black gunk around his eyes. Allyson contemplated the man in front of her, his eyes closing as she brushed the cloth over his lids only to flick back open to stare her down.

"Sometimes things aren't exactly what they look like," she let out softly, "Sometimes, what you're seeing isn't exactly the truth." She paused when she came to the scars, flicking her gaze from one to the other, trying to figure the best way to approach them. "Let me know if I hurt you," she murmured, smearing the red paint off his skin. She could see a smile cracking through his lips, his chest jerking with laughter.

"Wanna know how I got 'em?" He asked, his hands reaching up gesture wildly at his face. Allyson flinched, surprised by the question. Unable to help herself, she made a small noise of assent. "Well, my family were all carnies, you see, circus people." Allyson stopped him, wiping to cloth across his lips, taking with it the last of the makeup. She smirked as a look of annoyance crossed his face. And it was a nice face, aside from the scars. His tongue tentatively reached up to lick at bare skin. "Do you want to hear the story, or not?" Allyson nodded and leaned her hips back against the table, throwing aside the towel and crossing her arms. "So, circus people obviously have a, uh, penchant for the strange and obscure." He paused, eyeing her critically, "Have you ever gone one of those freak shows? The ones where they show off the bearded lady, the serpent-man, and all that jazz." Chained hands jerked up, wrists rolled as if to put the air within them on display. "Well, our manager decided to crank up the juice a little with a little, uh, _knife_ show." He leaned to rest his left elbow on his knee, placing his chin in his hand. "Being the young boy that I was, I volunteered myself for the job as the assistant. Now, our knife-wielder was good, _very good_," Allyson began to see changes in his face, a coiling tension building in his frame. Something was brewing in that mind of his. Determined to stand her ground, Allyson planted her feet on the floor, bracing herself against the table. "But one day, while performing his famous trick, 'The Laughing Clown', his knife, uh, _slipped_," as he snarled the word, he jumped up, grabbing her jaw and pushing her back over the surface of the table. She barely had time to register her new position before his grip switched, his left hand moving to cradle her head and his right coming up over her throat. "Naturally, I wasn't too happy about it, but, being the _young boy that I was_, I took it in stride." There went that smile again. "They used me in their little freak show, displaying me with a sign that read '_Why So Serious_?'"

By now, Allyson could feel her heart hammering in her chest and she began to struggle as best she could. Bound as he was, his strength still overpowered her, forcing her body to bow and clench, her muscles to burn with the fight. She could hear the officers running down the halls, could vaguely register the door slamming open and Gordon's voice rising above the static in her mind. Mostly, though, she could feel the weight of him pressing her down, his legs firmly locking her in place, and his eyes staring at her, amused with her vain struggles. "Oh, hello again, Com_missioner_," he drawled, his voice laced with victory, "I really hate to say this, but I think I might have to keep this one." The hand holding the back of her head lifted to wipe her hair out of her face with surprising gentleness, "She's got fight, I like that. I really like that." Before she could form a response to his sudden change in personality, he slammed his lips down on her, biting and prodding until she opened. Allyson gripped his forearms, pulling at them, and kicked her legs out, trying to push him off. His tongue darted in, retreating when she bit down hard. He pulled away and grinned, his smile almost literally from ear to ear, lips coated with a fresh coat of his own blood.

Allyson stifled a gasp and he flung her up and over the table. She landed hard on her knees, the unforgiving concrete of the floor scratching at her skin through the fabric of her pants. Her mind slowed to a daze, things were muffled by absolute shock. Gordon lifted her up and away from the table, hauling her limp form out of the room. God, what had happened? One minute he's happily chatting away, and the next he was putting her through a bruising scuffle, scaring the bejeezus out of her, and, shit, she could still taste him. Allyson wiped angrily at her mouth, trying to get that strange taste of… apples? He tasted like green _fucking_ apples.


End file.
